Floating down unconcerned Rivers
by seren23
Summary: What? Atonement?" Lucian said with a grimace. "I have so much to atone for Tara, I don't think I'd know where to begin."
1. Chapter 1

Title: Floating down unconcerned Rivers  
Fandom: Underworld crossover with Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
Rating: K+  
Spoilers: Only for the first _Underworld_ movie and for all seasons of_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.  
Summary: He awoke in the same place he died.

A/N: I'm probably going somewhere with this. So there may be more. But this is the first and can be read on it's own. I can only blame this on Michael Sheen and my imagination filled in the rest. The title is taken from Arthur Rimbaud's _The Drunken Boat_. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

He awoke in the same place he died. Sprawled out on the floor in the dilapidated underground, the walls still had rivulets of dirty water and the floor was covered in muck and mud. He blinked and shook his head a little to clear his mind. He sat up slowly. He breathed deeply and tried to remember what he had been doing prior to lying on the ground.

He took another breath. He knew he had a name, but could not remember. Something was terribly wrong. He breathed in again.

There. That was it. A lack. A complete lack of pain. That was what was missing. His chest felt empty without it. He looked down at himself and frowned.

His skin was still pale and taunt over his muscles, but the dirt and the angry lines of silver he expected to see were missing.

He breathed in again and a part of him delighted in the absence of pain, but the animal part of him was wary. He made a movement to stand.

"You may want to take it easy," a soft voice came from nearby. He looked over quickly, losing his balance and falling swiftly into a crouch. His eyes flashed with silver as he took in the stranger.

A young woman with long light brown hair stood in the doorway. He flared his nostrils and frowned. She didn't smell of a threat; she smelled of lavender and camomile.

"You'll probably have some disorientation when you stand," she said. "I know I did."

"You," he tried to speak, instead all that emerged was a growl. He swallowed and tried to speak again and still another growl that to his dismay became a low whine was all he could manage.

The young woman looked sympathetic and took a step closer. He bared his teeth and crouched lower. She stopped and held out her hand, palm down and lowered her eyes with the hint of a smile on her face.

He took in the picture of submission and greeting she offered.

Her eyes still lowered, she said, "It may take you a few minutes to join yourself together."

He closed his mouth and fought the animal side of him that all of a sudden was urging him to butt his head against her outstretched hand. Instead he studied her.

She was medium height with a full figure. Young, to his eyes, no more than twenty-five. Her eyes were brown and rich with compassion.

"Will I do?" she asked sounding slightly amused.

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a semblance of a smile. Then it struck him.

"Lucian," he managed, his voice still rough with a growl.

"Yes," she said nodding her head. "You are Lucian."

He nodded seriously to himself. He looked around the dark dank room. It was so still. And it didn't smell like it should. He concentrated and tried to remember, when it all came to him. He flinched once, then again and again as the images that led up to his death battered his mind.

....the sting of the injection of blood. ...the sad empathy in Michael's eyes. ...the blinding pain and outrage at the shot in the back from Kraven. ...the agony of the silver nitrate. ...the utter satisfaction of stabbing Kraven. ...the gorgeous irony of Selene biting Michael. ...the beautiful anticipation of pain and relief that would finally come with his death.

The wolf inside of him could be contained no longer. He rose to his knees and threw his head back and howled. His throat exposed to the world and his chest full of remembered loss and suffering. He howled out his existance.

His energy and emotions sapped, Lucian slumped to the ground, his palms flat on the floor and his back hunched over. His hair fell in a curtain around his face and he tried to regain control. He breathed. The still present scent of lavender felt wrong in such a dank place, so he looked over at the young woman. The understanding and unshed tears in her eyes took him aback. He furrowed his brow in confusion and looked back down at the ground.

Lucian flexed his fingers. The floor should have been wet with water and muck and instead it was solid. He raised his hands up to look at the palms. They had been stained with silver and blood, he was sure of it. He looked up and stared at the walls. They seemed to shimmer under his gaze. He whipped his head back to stare at the young woman as it finally dawned on him just how incongruous her presence was in this place.

She wore a blue sweater and blue jeans. Her feet were bare and her toenails had the lightest shade of pink polish on them. However, compared to the room, she looked and smelled as solid as anything.

Lucian felt another whine beginning at the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the wolf. Once he felt under control, he opened his eyes and pinned the woman with a glare.

"Am I..." he cleared his throat. "I am dead, correct?"

"Yes," she said nodding. "Yes, you are."

Lucian inclined his head.

"Is this..." he waved his hand limply indicating the surroundings, "heaven?"

"No," she said. "Not at all."

"Right," Lucian said. He took a deep breath. "Then where am I?"

The woman sighed a little.

"I suppose the best name for it is Limbo. This," she said nodding at the room, "is a kind of construct. They had the grand idea that we would feel more 'at home' if we awoke in the place we died."

She shook her head. "I have my doubts about that particular idea."

Lucian blinked and looked at her blankly.

"Limbo?" he said, latching onto the first part of her explantion. "Am I to be judged?"

"Oh, you've already been judged," she said.

He waited. "And, which is it to be, heaven or hell?"

"Well, neither," she said sounding a little surprised.

"Neith..." he started. "What?"

She took a step forward but stopped when Lucian reared back.

"I... May I sit down?" she asked.

Lucian looked surprised and then with a regal wave of his hand said, "It's your place."

"Actually, it's yours," she said with a smile and she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs Indian-style. "But, we'll get to that."

She met his gaze with clear eyes and an open expression on her face.

"You are dead. At least in the most basic of senses. You, as Lucian the physical being who walked about the earth, are no longer alive. However, you have still retained your, I guess the best word is soul," she explained. "And as you have already discovered, you still possess the lycanthrope within you. That is who you have always been, so that's who you remain."

She shifted a little and her fingers fell to play with the cuff of her jeans.

"Where we are now is only a reflection of where you were when you died," she went on. "So a kind of Limbo if you will, before you begin your next stage."

"My next stage?" Lucian repeated.

The young woman nodded.

"You have been Chosen, Lucian," she said simply.

He raised his head a little, sensing the proper noun in that statement.

"Chosen? For what?" he asked flatly.

Here, the young woman looked reluctant to go on, as if she sensed his response would not be favorable. Lucian felt his hackles twitch beneath his skin.

"You've been Chosen to be a Guardian," she said finally.

"A Guardian? Of what?" he asked sharply.

"Well," she said, her hand reached up to tuck a length of hair behind her ear and Lucian was struck by how young she appeared. "The Powers That Be have chosen beings throughout history to guard who they call their most important players. These Guardians keep watch and when needed, help to ensure that the actions of the player move forward as they should."

This last part was said with a hint of bitterness.

"The... Powers That Be?" Lucian said in disbelief. "I thought they were a myth used to explain away coincidence and good luck."

The woman smiled a little. "No, they are as real as you and I."

Lucian raised his eyebrows at her and looked her up and down. She looked puzzled and then said quickly, "I'm real! Honest. I used to be alive, but I died and then I was Chosen."

"You lived," he said absently. "And now you are dead. And I am dead. And I am to be a Guardian."

He leaned back and landed heavily into a sitting position with his knees bent upwards. He rested his arms on top of his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He chuckled wryly.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I know that this doesn't make much sense and..."

"No, no. It makes complete and utter sense," Lucian said, his head still in his hands. "I've been toiling away for centuries. Centuries! And just as I see my plans, my _will_, my _vengeance_, come to fruition, I am shot in the back. But instead of peaceful oblivion or even the flames of hell, I get to be a, a, a bloody Guardian Angel?!"

Lucian finished with his head raised skywards and with a shout that felt all the more unnatural in a place that didn't allow an echo. He dropped his head back into his hands.

"Bloody typical," he muttered.

For a moment the only sounds were Lucian's ragged breaths and the young woman's slow and even ones.

"I don't expect you to understand fully what all of this means," she said softly. "I didn't. It will take some time. And ex- exposure to what you are now capable of doing."

Lucian snorted.

"It does get better," she said weakly. "I promise."

"Do you?" he said dryly. "Do you promise?"

He lifted his head and gave her a gaze that had caused grown men to wither under the sheer cruelty of it.

"I've already been a guardian, thanks," he said. "As you can see, it didn't turn out so well. You'll have to forgive me if I'm reluctant to take up such a mantle again."

The young woman frowned, but Lucian continued.

"Did you miss the part about centuries?" he said. "Six of them, to be accurate. All occupied with a war that I didn't begin but was compelled to end. And now, I never shall. My life's purpose, my existance is all but eradicated and now I must follow along like a good little _pup_ and make sure the future kings are kept safe? How utterly, utterly boring."

He glared at the young woman. She glared back, her hands clenched the cuff of her jeans.

"You are right," she said. "And I am sorry that your death came at an inconvenient time. And I am sorry for all of your suffering. But you are aware that more is happening in the world beyond your war? Are you really that narrow minded to believe that the entire world hinges upon the outcome of it? This is only a small blip on the screen as far as most are concerned. Half of the lycans and vampires I know stayed far away from it hoping you would all just destroy each other. All the while, people are dying all over to make sure this realm continues to exist and not be dragged into a hell of the worst sort. This world is made up of so much more than you are even capable of imagining."

Lucian leaned back as something gold and powerful flashed behind her eyes and he realized that maybe there was more to this woman than he first believed.

"I see," he said. The young woman seemed to calm down and she lowered her eyes.

"I don't suppose I have much choice in this matter, do I?" he asked.

"There is always a choice," she said almost by rote. "But, at the moment, no, you really don't."

She looked up at him with a rueful smile and they studied one another.

"So, what now?" he asked in resignation.

"Now, we get out of here," she said. "And I begin to teach you a few of the basics of being a Guardian and a little about our physical manifestations."

"We have physical manifestations?" Lucian asked. "Like what? Ghosts? Poltergeists?"

"That's certainly one way of describing them," she said. "Sometimes we do have to physically intervene in order to assist, so we are able to move things about and have a presence."

"Oh, well, that's good to know," he said, staring at the fake wall in front of him. With a canine-like shake of his body, he stood up. He looked down at the young woman.

"I suppose we should get going," he said. He looked around in distaste. "I no longer wish to remain in these surroundings."

She smiled at him and stood up, reflexively wiping off her jeans despite no dirt being present.

"All we have to do is go through the doorway and then we'll be in the physical realm of the world again," she indicated the door where Kraven had run away into earlier.

"Very well," Lucian said. He paused and looked torn. "Could you... Would it... Are you able to tell me how the battle ended?"

His eyes bored into the wall and would not meet hers.

"Viktor is dead," she explained softly. "Selene cut him down."

Lucian froze at the delicious implications of what she just said. Then he blinked and smiled.

"Good," he said. "And Michael?"

"A beautiful being of immense strength and agility," she said. Then she shrugged. "If you like that sort of thing."

Lucian actually chuckled and looked at her. "It's a lycan thing."

"So I gathered," she replied with a grin.

"So," he said as he looked at the door. "We just walk through there and my next stage begins?"

"Yep," she said. "That's it. You'll need to hold my hand for the first bit, so I can guide you a little."

She held out a pale hand with delicate fingers. He wondered if she had ever played the piano.

"So," he asked as he went to take her hand. "Do you have a name?"

Their hands met and a warm feeling of connection spread through Lucian's body.

"Oh, yes," she said as she looked in surprise at their joined hands. She looked up at his face and smiled. "My name is Tara."

Then she turned and led him through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:** The Rivers let me sail downstream where I pleased.

**Disclaimers:**_ Underworld_ and_ BtVS_ are so not mine. This chapter does take a few elements from the movies _Wings of Desire_ and City of Angels, but only slightly. The Seattle Central Library is a real place. Definitely Wikipedia it to get a feel for the amazing architecture. And the title of the story and chapters is taken from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, **The Drunken Boat**.

**Summary:** "I was under the impression we were to make sure important people didn't get hit by cars or crushed by falling boulders. This is decidedly more voyeuristic."

**A/N:** This story has truly taken over my brain at the moment and will probably consist of about five chapters. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

"We're at a library?"

Tara looked over at her companion and had to fight a grin at his glower directed towards the building.

"Yes, a library," she said. "Surely in all your years you've graced a library with your presence. Possibly even used a card catalogue?"

Lucian transferred his glower to Tara.

"Yes. I've been inside libraries," he said. "However, they were usually dark and filled with scrolls and not quite this..."

He squinted at the building again.

"Shiny," he finished.

"Well, looks like you're about to have another new experience," she said with a grin. "Come on, we need to get inside."

Lucian looked apprehensively at the structure and then followed Tara. The building in question was the Seattle Central Library. It stood eleven stories high, a monument of glass and steel and was not at all the type of building Lucian would have called a library.

But, as he was finding out, most of his preconceived notions were out of place. The world had continued to advance in ways he was only now becoming truly aware of. The only time he'd ever looked at the progress made in science or engineering was to judge it's usefullness for his campaign. It was a rude awakening to see just how much the world had changed.

But lately all his awakenings are rude ones. And while he probably couldn't ask for a more patient companion (partner?) than Tara, he still had trouble reconciling his old life with his new (un)life.

"Are we just going to wander in?" he asked Tara as they approached the library. Tara stopped and looked over at him. People walked past her as though she didn't exist. They didn't move through her as such, they just made a slight diversion to avoid running into her. Lucian could feel the heat of the humans as they brushed past him as well.

"Well, that depends," she said. "Do you want to try jumping in?"

Lucian looked at her and then again at the building. He saw a floor plan on a nearby information kiosk and walked over to study it. Tara followed.

"If we jump into this corridor here," he pointed to a service hallway. "We would most likely be alone and not land on anyone."

He finished with a tinge of irritation in his tone. Tara had to bite back her grin, but he caught it.

"Not one word," he warned her.

"Of course not," she said. "I wouldn't dare."

"It was only the once," he went on.

"Yes, yes absolutely," she agreed seriously. "I promise not to say anything."

He nodded and looked back at the floor plan.

"It was just the most spectacular shriek I've ever heard someone make," Tara said absently. "And I didn't know that old ladies could move that fast or have such accurate aim."

Lucian growled and with a glare at the young woman by his side he abruptly vanished. Tara allowed a full smile to surface on her face and then vanished after him.

For the most part, Lucian had taken to his new status as Guardian with minimal complaint. He delighted (secretly, of course) in the fact that he could come and go quickly in the daytime and the night. Tara and he had spent countless hours figuring out how to teleport or 'jump' from place to place. It took an amount of concentration and discipline and all those centuries of willing his transformations was coming in very handy. Once they figured out that they could easily 'lock' onto the other's position, they could keep up with each other extremely well. The time he wasn't with Tara, he found he was free to come and go as he wished. Time seemed to just pass around him like a current of water and he was trying to get used to the notion of existing without the driving force of vengeance behind him.

They walked quietly through the library. Lucian took in all the activity around him. People of all ages reading, writing typing away on computers, the building was filled with a peaceful, industrious hum. He heard Tara sigh contentedly next to him. He glanced over at her and fought the urge to smile at the look on her face.

"You're right at home aren't you?" he murmured as they approached an escalator that would take them to the level Tara had mentioned.

She looked over at him with a small smile. "I spent most of my life in libraries or immersed in a book of one kind or another. So yes, this is my kind of place."

They arrived on the floor where the so-called Book Spiral began. Lucian looked at the bookshelves that stretched and winded their way above his head. He shook his head once again at all he had missed.

"They're supposed to be around here somewhere," Tara said softly. She started walking up the sloping walkway. Lucian followed, his eyes open and senses keen. Lucian still wasn't quite sure how Tara received the 'assignments', but for the first time in his life, he felt content to follow instead of lead.

"Ah," Tara said as she spotted something. She stopped and turned to face the bookshelf. She then took a book off the shelf and started to read. "It's the young man over there with the blue shirt on."

Lucian leaned against the shelf next to her and took in their assignment.

He was really just a boy, no more than sixteen according to the information Tara had shared with him earlier. The boy was currently sitting at a desk, books piled in front of him and writing furiously in a notebook.

"So, what," Lucian said softly. "We wait here and watch his back and keep him safe?"

"Actually," Tara said. "He's not in danger. He just needs to meet someone."

Lucian looked at her in disgust. "What? We aren't saving him from anything?"

"Nope," she said calmly leafing through what appeared to be a book on theoretical physics. "Soon, a girl will walk over and need a place to sit down. We have to make sure she sits at his table."

"That's all?" Lucian asked. "I thought we were Guardians, not yentas!"

"Shh!" Tara shushed him. "Part of the job is making sure things happen. It's not all big battles and confrontations."

"Apparently," he grumbled.

"Do you know how much often rests upon the smallest of details?" Tara looked at him with a slight glare. "Did you know that supposedly the beginning of World War I may have hinged upon the wrong turn of Franz Ferdinand's driver? What do you suppose could have been prevented if he had turned in the other direction?"

She turned back to her book. Lucian looked back at the young man as he studied. The lycan frowned and slumped a little. His attention was then caught by the arrival of a young woman with short blonde hair. She seemed to be looking for something. Lucian nudged Tara.

"I think she's here," he said. Tara looked up and watched the girl as she weaved around some people and looked for an empty space at a table. Tara frowned when she noticed that the boy's books had spilled over into the space in front of the empty chair opposite him. She handed Lucian the book she was holding and walked casually over to the boy's table. Lucian watched her as Tara 'accidently' knocked one of the boy's books off the table and onto the floor. To the boy's eyes, it appeared as though the book had just fallen all on it's own. Tara walked back over to stand next to Lucian and they watched as the boy scrambled to pick it up. As he surfaced, the blonde girl had arrived to stand next to the empty chair. The boy's eyes widened as she said something. He grinned and gestured for her to sit down. The girl smiled gratefully and took a seat.

Tara casually took her book back from Lucian and opened it up again.

Lucian looked from her to the two sitting at the table. He noticed that they were now trying to glance surreptitiously at the other. Lucian frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now, we wait and we watch a little," Tara said.

The two Guardians stood while the pair in front of them studied and flirted silently.

"You know," Lucian said in a low, irritated tone after a few minutes. "I was under the impression we were to make sure important people didn't get hit by cars or crushed by falling boulders. This is decidedly more voyeuristic."

"Don't be silly. It is not," Tara said. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "If they were shagging on the table, then you could probably label it as voyeurism. But they're just sitting there."

Lucian rolled his eyes.

"This is the most critical point for them," she continued. "That moment when meeting someone and determining if they could be your friend or perhaps more at some point. It was very important for the two of them to meet. They need to become friends."

"Friends?" Lucian said. "Only friends? What good does that do either of them?"

Tara stared at him and then asked. "Lucian, when was the last time you had a friend? And I mean a friend, not a minion or a soldier or even a lover. A friend."

Lucian opened his mouth to scoff at her and found his mind completely blank.

"Hunh," he said eloquently. Tara just looked at him smugly and went back to her book.

"That proves nothing," he said grumpily. "I was busy you know. I hardly had time for flirtations and, and that."

He waved a hand in the direction of the table.

"Mmmhmm, and now you're dead and you have all the time in the world, so what's the problem?" she asked.

"What, are you offering to be my friend?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, I was," Tara said pensively. "Now I'm not so sure."

She smirked at him over her book.

Lucian felt extremely out of his depth. He had already accepted the fact that Tara was now his partner and held the reins, so to speak, as far as their assignments went.

However, she did have a point. He was dead and what was death but the next great adventure and all that, so...

"Fine. I would be delighted to accept your friendship," he said formally.

The smile Tara gave him made him feel warm in a way he was sure he'd never felt before.

"Why Lucian," she said happily. "_I'm_ delighted to hear that."

He nodded and turned his attention back to the table. The boy was currently leaning over the table to point something out to the girl. She was listening carefully and they began debating back and forth.

"Well," Tara said. "That's that."

"What?" Lucian said sounding confused. "You mean that's all?"

"All we had to do was make sure they had a chance to meet," she said putting her book back on the shelf. "The rest is pretty much up to them."

Lucian looked at Tara seriously and asked, "Who are they? Do you know?"

"I wasn't told the specifics," she said. "I never am. But they look important don't they?"

They looked at the couple and Lucian took in their young, ordinary features and characteristics, like the shoelace that come untied on the boy's shoe and the slight frizz to the girl's hair.

"A left turn instead of a right one," he murmured. Tara nodded in agreement.

"Alright then," he said. "Where next, Milady?"

They began walking down the passageway towards the escalator.

"Well, there is supposedly a very rare metoer shower taking place that is only visible in the Arctic Circle?" Tara offered.

"Meteors?" Lucian asked in disbelief. "All of the world at your fingertips and you want to watch rocks fall into our atmosphere?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "What do you suggest?"

"I was thinking of stopping in Budapest," Lucian said. "Seeing how Michael and Selene are getting on."

"Didn't you do that yesterday?" she asked. "It's not good to linger on the living you know?"

"Fine, fine," he said. "What else have you got?"

"We-ell, we could practice your jumping again. See how many old ladies you can manage to land on in an hour?" she said with a teasing grin.

Tara vanished quickly with a laugh just as Lucian lunged for her. He disappeared after her instantly.

The library continued to hum with life in the wake and the couple at the table continued to talk.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The storm made bliss of my sea-borne awakenings.  
Rating: T  
Fandom:_ Underworld/BtVS_  
Pairing: Lucian and Tara  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it. The title and chapter titles are from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, _The Drunken Boat_.  
Summary: "Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all." The grin on Lucian's face was positively feral.

A/N: I've taken taken various ideas from Norse mythology and have applied them here. Odin was real, the story I created using him is not. Thank you so much to my one very thoughtful reviewer! We're getting close to the action (No, not that kind! Sheesh. *grins*). So please let me know what you think.

* * *

The wind rushed through his fur as Lucian tore down the side of the mountain. His paws and claws hitting the ground in loud thumps and dirt and gravel sprayed behind him as he gained in speed. With a powerful leap, the lycan jumped the remaining distance to land heavily on the grass. He barely paused at the landing and continued to run full out. The sun beat down upon his body and Lucian felt his jaws grin and his tongue loll as he panted with exertion.

His eyes found a target standing several yards away watching him. He bent his head down and barreled towards the small figure. The wolf charged and at the very last minute the figure disappeared just as Lucian reached her. He smelled the lavender she left in her wake.

Lucian growled happily and slowed his run down and looked around to find his prey.

Tara stood several yards behind him, hands on her hips and head tilted with an exasperated smile on her face.

"You're just big old puppy aren't you?" she called to him.

He shook himself all over. Tara laughed. Lucian stood upright and began to transform back into human form. Tara realized what he was doing, and was suddenly aware he was going to be naked when he finished, turned around quickly. Even in death, the flush filled her face.

"I'm decent now," he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"That's probably the last word I'd use to describe you," she said turning around. Lucian stood there in his usual brown leather trousers and loose black shirt. Tara spared a moment to wonder once again why their subconscious always saw fit to return them to the clothes they were most comfortable in. She herself was dressed in a long skirt and fitted t-shirt. It occurred to her that they made the oddest looking partnership and choked back a small chuckle at the thought.

"What brings you here?" he asked. Tara smiled and looked down at the ground.

"I'm not completely sure," she said. "I sensed you were incredibly happy and moving at a great speed." She shrugged. "I couldn't help myself."

"So, the truth comes out," Lucian grinned at her. "You just can't resist my animal magnetism."

"As if!" she retorted in a fake Valley Girl accent. They began to walk together through the field. Tara breathed in the smell of earth and oak. The air was crisp and clean, with a hint of snow on the way.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"The Bukk Mountains, in Hungary," Lucian replied. "The other side of the country from where I served the coven. I remember travelling through here once and having wished I could've run free, instead of leading a caravan."

They strolled quietly taking in the natural peace of the area. Lucian no longer had any real sense of time. They had been on several more assignments, some as simple as moving someone into the path of another, some as difficult as preventing an accident. He often thought to himself to rebel, to scream and curse the sky and heavens that he could not be allowed any rest. Why was he Chosen for this endless task of watching others as they made history. He succumbed from time to time to standing in the shadows watching his old pack as they came and went and tried to put their lives back together. Lucian sensed the futility of this, his observing, but could not let go quite that easily.

"It's the most amazing thing," he said thoughtfully. "When I was alive all I could think about was death. And now that I'm dead, all I can think about is life. The life I could have had. Life with Sonja, perhaps. Life outside of the pack."

Tara nodded in understanding.

"It was never to be," he said with a sardonic grin. "I think I knew that, even when I held her for the first time in my arms."

"It was hard for me to let go too and I was a fraction of your age when I died," Tara said. "I kept going back to check on people, even helped out from time to time, but..."

"One has to let go?" Lucian offered.

"Yes," she said sadly. "One has to let go."

They continued on letting the cold, wild wind through the trees fill the silence.

"Tell me this," Lucian said. "You admit that you were significantly younger than I when you died. Why on earth are you considered the lead partner? I've got far more experience than you in leadership and ordering people about."

"True enough," Tara said. "But I've been dead longer than you have. That gives me automatic seniority."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Lucian said shaking his head. "Apparently bureaucracy exists on all planes, including the spiritual."

"Well, just be thankful -," Tara broke off with a gasp. Lucian turned to her quickly.

"What? Tara?" he asked concerned. As spirits of a sort, they did not experience pain or other mortal ailments, so Lucian was shocked to see Tara in such apparent discomfort.

"Wait," she whispered, one of her hands cupped her forehead, the other circled her stomach and she hunched over as though she were nauseous. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Tara?" Lucian whispered, completely unsure of what do to.

"Oh! I see it!" Tara said harshly. She moved her head like she was following the movement of someone. "Why... She's gone mad?"

All of a sudden, Tara went completely still. Lucian stared at her with wide eyes. He tentatively raised a hand to touch her shoulder, when her eyes opened and she straightened up. His hand flew back to his side and he studied her. She looked exhausted and terribly sad.

"We have our next assignment," Tara said with a heavy voice.

*****

"So that's how you know?" Lucian said as they walked quickly through the field. Tara was still a bit shaky and didn't quite have enough equilibrium for a jump. "They send you visions?"

"Yes," Tara said with a sigh. "They just come. There's generally no warning or even a pattern."

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly and not looking at her. Tara snuck a glance at his stony face. As usual, he gave nothing away.

"No," she said. "It can be overwhelming and abrupt, but not painful. It is for the humans They send them to."

"Humans?" Lucian asked finally turning to look at her. "They send visions to humans?"

"Of course," Tara said. "Surely you've heard of prophets through out the years? Same thing."

"I met one once," he said. "Or at least a man who claimed he was a prophet. He told me my campaign would be victorious but with filled with great pain."

Lucian chuckled wryly. "He was right it seems."

"Well, the Powers have always tried to guide and manipulate things to follow Their needs," Tara said. "The visions They send are terribly painful to humans. Almost seizure inducing."

"Where do we have to go?" Lucian asked.

"Denmark," Tara said. "It wasn't completely clear, but there is something that is terrorizing a small fishing village on one of the islands. Apparently, we have to stop it."

Lucian looked at her eagerly and Tara noticed a gleam had come into his eyes.

"Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all."

The grin on his face was positively feral.

*****

Lucian and Tara appeared on the west end of the island. The village lay a few hundred yards away, they could see the buildings in the distance. The wind had picked up and the only sound was the lapping of the water on the shore. The island was one of the smaller and the furthest from the mainland and the only way to reach the island was on a ferry. A small mountain range dominated the majority of the island and they tapered off to create a small flatland and natural harbour. The mountain were green and the first impression of the village in the distance was that it was cheerfully painted in the bright colors often found in seaside towns. Seagulls cried out overhead and oily black cormorants sat on an decrepit pier, their wings outstretched in the act of drying themselves.

The boats in the harbour drifted and bobbed silently, moored to sea floor by their anchors. The dock that housed the ferry was blocked off with a large warning sign pasted across the departure and arrival times, obviously cancelling the service. As they approached the village, they realized what was missing.

Life.

Quite a few of the houses and buildings appeared locked and boarded up, hardly anyone was in the street. Lucian looked around and judged that it had to be late in the afternoon, and yet, only a dozen people seemed to inhabit the place.

"A ghost town," Tara murmured. Lucian glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.

"Pardon the pun," she said. He smirked but tightened his fists and for the first time wished he had his sword.

"What did you see exactly?" Lucian asked in a low voice.

"I saw a form, a woman I think," Tara said as they walked past a cafe with it's lights off and the Closed sign hanging at a half hazard angle. "She appeared to be attacking a young man. I got a flash of a battlefield, and then another vision of the form as she stood surrounded by larger forms. She appears to be targeting young men."

Tara shuddered. "There was such an aura of madness and desperation and sheer violence in what she was doing. And what she wanted to do."

"What does she do?" he asked. His eyes swept over the streets.

"She... She pulls them," Tara said quietly.

"Pulls them?" Lucian repeated. "What do you mean?"

"She just pulls something out of them that kills them," she said. "I can't explain it, it wasn't completely clear."

"Hmmm," Lucian said. He walked over and picked up a discarded newspaper lodged against the wall. He quickly read the main story. Tara peered over his shoulder.

"It's in Danish," she said.

"Yes," he said absently. "It appears the village had lost around a dozen men, ages range from thirteen to thirty. They believed it to be a kind of virus that attacked the nervous system and effectively drained the men of energy and caused their muscles to seize. They just gave up after a day or so of unbelievable pain. One gentleman was found simply dead on the ground. No one could, of course, put a name to the condition."

"Of course they couldn't. Because it isn't a medical problem. That would make sense with what I've seen from the visions," Tara said. "It was at night, very dark. Does it say where they may have come down with it? At their homes?"

Lucian scanned the article. "Actually, it says that seven of the men were found on a hill nearby, already having seizures. And no one can account for them being there. "

He looked up from the paper and gazed around the village and took in the dark windows.

"I was never one for ghost stories," he said firmly.

"Ironic that," Tara said. "What else does it say?"

"What? Can't you read Danish?" he teased. Tara glared. "Nothing more about the lads, apparently the last one died very quickly and the Town Council is considering closing the ferry service and quarantining the community."

Lucian flipped the paper to read the date. "That was three days ago."

"They moved pretty quickly," Tara mused. "What hill was it?"

"The Rød Holl," he said, his eyes already attempting to seek it out amongst the landscape. "The Red Hill."

"Well, that sounds appropriately ominous," she said, her own eyes looking over the terrain.

"Come," Lucian said. "We need a map."

"Lead on, milord," Tara said with a slight bow of her head. Lucian spared her a quick grin and they walked down the street.

Most of the shops were closed with small handwritten signs on the front doors. A small cafe was open, but only one customer was evident and he was drinking his coffee rapidly. Tara and Lucian walked past a few shops that had obviously been looted, with debris strewn about the sidewalk. The greengrocer's looked completely abandoned. Fruit and vegetables had been left to spoil in the sun still in their crates.

"There is definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark," Lucian murmured.

Tara groaned.

"What? I owed you one for 'ghost town'," he explained. Tara just shook her head.

They approached the town square and found a few more people quickly going about their business and not quite meeting each other's eyes. A few small groups huddled together here and there.

As they moved past one group of women, the oldest of the group was talking hurriedly and harshly. Tara couldn't make out what she was saying and looked at Lucian as they slowed down to listen.

"She's saying that they've locked up all the doors and locked her son in his room," he translated. "She's worried that he will try to sneak out like the others, but she plans to sit up outside his door tonight."

"That makes it sound like they are compelled to leave," Tara said as they started walking again. "There could be a compulsion spell at work."

"A spell?" Lucian said with undisguised derision. "As in magic? Unlikely."

Tara came to a complete halt and stared at him.

"You don't believe in magic," she stated flatly.

"Not particularly," he said. "Certainly not in spells and bubbling cauldrons."

Tara found herself actually struck with the urge to smack him upside the head.

"You. A being who can transform into a _wolf_, who grew up in a coven of _vampires_, does not believe in magic?"

Confused, Lucian looked at her.

"I believe that there are certain properties in the world that can be manipulated through unconventional means and that some possess powers that allow them to move things about and I certainly believe in herb lore, but magic? In the sparkly sense?" he shook his head. "In all my years, I haven't come across it."

"Really? Not once?" It was Tara's turn to shake her head. "I find that very hard to believe. Magic is everywhere. Perhaps, you just chose not to see it."

"Perhaps I didn't see it because it wasn't there," he retorted, but was beginning to question his resolve in the face of Tara's conviction.

Tara huffed and continued on her way out of the square and up a winding path out of the village towards the hills. Lucian followed her, unsettled by their conversation. He re-focused on the hills in front of him and something struck his eye. He put his hand on Tara's arm and stopped her.

"Look, do you see?" he pointed at one of the lower hills that seemed to have a plateau at it's top. The wind had picked up and the heather growing on the hill was undulating slowly in the breeze. The winter sun was beginning to set despite the earliness of the hour.

The sunlight hitting the heather caused the brush to reflect a rusty red, the hill itself appeared to flush in the dimming light.

"Red Hill," Tara whispered.

"Rød Holl," Lucian corrected. Tara rolled her eyes and they began to walk towards the hill. They climbed the small uneven path in silence, until Lucian decided to voice the question that had been burning in his mind since he first met her.

"Tara?" Lucian asked hesitantly. "Out of curiosity, what was it you did before you died?"

Tara smirked over her shoulder at him and her blue eyes sparkled with a golden light as she answered.

"I was a witch."

*****

Sunset was nearly upon them as they finally reached the top of the hill. Several large stones stood nearby, including a small plaque firmly set inside the largest stone. The main body of the text was in Danish, but they had also helpfully included a small description in English.

It was a small commemoration of a Great Battle that was rumored to have taken place on this very hill in the early 1100s. Odin himself had supposedly participated and helped the community to defeat the raiders that had come to pillage the small island. All he asked for in exchange for the service was one of the local girls to accompany him and become one of his Valkyries. The girl was very beautiful and kind and the girl's father eagerly agreed and the young woman was swept into the God's arms and they had ridden away together into the sky.

"Typical," Lucian said dryly.

"Why is she always the most beautiful?" Tara mused rhetorically. "Why is she never the most intelligent or the most athletic?"

Lucian chuckled and looked out over the view of the village the hill provided. The light was fading quickly and the two of them watched the as the sun set over the small bay. The sunlight created silhouettes of the other islands and although they themselves could not feel it, the temperature dropped quickly.

"All right," Lucian said quietly. "We wait here to see if anyone from the village appears. If you are correct and magic is being used, will you be able to determine the source?"

"Yes," Tara replied. "I can reveal the caster easily. I should be able to block them for a short while."

"Good. Once we determine the source," Lucian continued. "We'll reconnoiter and determine how best to suppress it and then take it out of commission."

"This is all supposing it's human," Tara pointed out. "I don't think she is."

Lucian pondered this. "I still think it's the best strategy. Even if she is, as you say, not human, we still need to suppress her powers and stop her."

"Fine," Tara said. "I just have a feeling that this may be more difficult that we think."

"Duly noted," Lucian said with a nod.

They walked back over to the rocks and waited.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: I have seen the low-hanging sun speckled with mystic horrors.  
Rating: T  
Fandom:_ Underworld/BtVS_  
Pairing: Lucian and Tara  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it. The title and chapter titles are from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, _The Drunken Boat_.  
Summary: "I know that form," he said in a low voice. "I've... Seen it before. On a battlefield, centuries ago."

A/N: Once again, I'm taking from Norse mythology and altering it slightly for this story. There will be an epilogue after this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

The night once it began to fall, it fell fast and sharp. There was only a sliver of moonlight from the waning moon. Lucian spared a moment to look up and marveled at how he could still sense the pull even in death. His mouth twitched and he had a thought.

"I would like a weapon," he murmured.

"Then get one," Tara murmured back.

"And how do you suggest I go about doing that?" he asked.

"Wish for it," she said.

Lucian paused and considered that statement.

"That has to be the silliest thing I've ever heard you say," he said at last.

Even in the darkness, Lucian could practically hear Tara roll her eyes.

"I'm assuming that a big, strong warrior such as yourself had a weapon for most of his life," Tara said quietly. "It most likely was a part of you in the same way that your clothes were a part of you. Therefore, if you wish to have your weapon with you, it will be."

"What? Just like that?" he said.

"Just like that," she said.

Lucian furrowed his brow and thought. He remembered the weight of a sword in his hand, the way the blade would steer his momentum and how seamless it always felt. He opened his eyes and looked down. There it was resting in his hand, his sword of old, before he modified it to fit against his arm. He hefted it a few times and gave a very satisfied smile.

"Told you," Tara murmured.

"No need to gloat," Lucian murmured back.

The night went on. It must have been well past midnight when they heard the sound of someone walking up the path of the hill. Walking very loudly in fact. Lucian readied himself and Tara just watched.

A young male, no more than twenty, walked into view. He walked with a purpose and absolutely no heed to the scratches the brambles made on his legs. His hair glinted silver-blond in the moonlight and his eyes were vacant and unfocused.

Tara whispered a word in Latin. Then looked puzzled.

"I can't pinpoint the caster," she said. She repeated the word and shook her head. "He's being compelled but from a connection somehow deeper than a mere spell."

"Wait," Lucian said. "Do you feel that?"

They both paused and Tara shivered a little as she felt pure malice come into their presence. The young man had come to a halt a few feet away from the large rocks. He turned and faced the small copse of trees opposite the monument. Shadows seemed to form and create a mass of figures. A lone shape emerged from the figure-shadows.

Lucian sucked in a breath.

"What?" Tara whispered.

The moon suddenly came out from behind a small cloud and they saw her clearly. She was tall and strong in build. Her once blonde hair was lank and dirty. You could see that her features had at one time been fair and alluring, now they were bitter and aged.

"I know that form," he said in a low voice. "I've... Seen it before. On a battlefield, centuries ago. She appeared for a moment in flash and then my second in command was cut down."

He grimaced. "She smiled. I kept thinking I saw her out of the corner of my eye the entire time. Every time one of my men fell."

"A Valkyrie," Tara said breathlessly.

"Yes," Lucian intoned.

Tara and Lucian watched as she glided to the young man.

The similarity between the crone and young man was striking. The same shade of hair color, the slant to the nose, the thin upper lip and a full lower one.

She raised a hand and cupped the side of the young man's face and carressed it tenderly as though he were an infant; her worn face was kind and loving. The hand trailed down the side of his neck, down his chest and rested it against his solar plexus. Her face changed slowly from caring to hard and cold.

"Mine," she whispered harshly. Then she pulled.

Tara gasped loudly and then shouted, "No!"

The crone whirled around to see Tara and Lucian reveal themselves out of the darkness.

"Who?" she rasped harshly, her face contorted with rage. "Who dares to face me?"

She studied the pair and nodded in comprehension. Then she smiled meanly, her hand now fisted in the young man's shirt.

"Guardians are you?" she said mockingly. "I've heard of such. Why do you interrupt me here? Surely there are more... worthwhile pursuits you could be championing? I'm surprised at your bother with me."

"You cannot continue with this," Tara said softly in a strong voice that seemed to resonate in the air. "You will not be allowed to kill anymore."

"Are you to stop me?" the Valkyrie rasped. Then she laughed, a harsh and tortured noise that seemed to cause the moon to hide once again behind a cloud. "No. I don't think so. This is my right and it will be finished."

"Your right?" Lucian questioned.

She turned her baleful gaze on him.

"Yes," she said. "These should have been mine. My sons!"

Comprehension dawned on Tara and Lucian.

"When Odin took you into the sky..." Tara said.

"Oh yes. Swept me off into the sky to serve," she said with derision. "I've spent an eternity on battlefields. Taking souls from young men, weaving into a fabric of real blood and fake glory."

She gazed once again at the blank face of the boy. She dragged a fingernail down his cheek.

"So many strong sons," she whispered. "So much death."

"This is vengeance against Odin," Tara prompted trying to distract her from the mortal in her grasp.

The Valkyrie looked over at the witch.

"Oh no," she said. "Not against my Lord. His only sin against me was the arrogance of a God."

Her face contorted once more into a grin.

"I watched while Fenrir tore him limb from limb and my soul danced with glee," she said. "But, no. My vengeance is not with Odin."

"Your father," Tara said.

"I see you know much, witch. Yes. My father," the Valkyrie spat. "He let me go. As a payment! Sent me away from my home, from my family. From my intended."

Her attention switched back to the boy in front of her.

"My handsome farmer," she said softly leaning to nuzzle the neck of the motionless boy. "I would have borne him sons. Kept his house."

"Instead, he was given to your sister," Tara said in another flash of insight.

The Valkyrie snarled and whirled to face Tara.

"Enough! I swore I would return. I swore I would take them all back," she cried.

"You are systematically killing the men on this island for revenge," Lucian stated.

"Is that so hard to comprehend my Lord Lycan?" she said sweetly. Lucian flinched imperceptibly from the malice in her tone. "Oh yes. The whole world knows of your vengeance. I admire your persistance and drive. And..." she looked him up and down, "Your ruthlessness. You've had your chance at revenge. Could you honestly deny me mine?"

Lucian made no answer.

"I can," Tara said in a clear resounding voice.

"Oh, can you?" she said derisively. "After what your former lover did to avenge you? She tortured for you. She killed for you. She would have taken apart the world for you."

Lucian felt Tara stiffen beside him at the crone's words.

"And it certainly isn't like you haven't had your share of little paybacks over the years," the Valkyrie continued. "Was it truly a heart attack that killed you father? No one would have blamed you. All those things that brother wanted to do to you. Daddy and the back of his hand. That was the only contact you had for years wasn't it? So weak and pitiful you are."

"Enough!" Tara said in a strong voice that shook the trees. "That girl is gone and I remain. You will stop this now."

Tara straightened to her full height and squared her shoulders and Lucian adopted her position, their shoulders touching slightly.

"We will stop you," Tara said softly.

"No," the Valkyrie said just as softly. "You will not."

She held out her other arm and gestured at the figure-shadows still hidden in the trees.

"Come my soldiers!" she called. "Into battle once again!"

The shadows came from the trees and formed into a set of four distinct figures. Lucian could just make out the identifying weapons and gear from very different countries. He hefted his sword in his hand.

"Tara," he questioned. She had begun to chant in a low voice, her attention on the Valkyrie.

"Keep them off me," she said in between snatches of Latin.

"I can kill them?" he asked walking forward a bit.

"No, they're already dead," she said. "Just slow them down."

"Right," Lucian muttered. He bowed his head briefly and then raised it, his face set in stone and his eyes flickering over the advancing soldiers. He took in their stances, their weaponry and their builds. He glanced quickly at their faces and wished he hadn't.

Agony and suffering was etched into every worn line of their faces. Their eyes screamed the pain that they couldn't physically voice. Lucian understood what had happened all at once. These were once noble warriors and she had kept them, kept their souls, from ascending. Now they followed a vicious master and hated every moment of it.

Lucian raised his sword and avoided their eyes as he strode forward.

The Valkyrie pressed her hand hard against the young boy's chest and curled her fingers and pulled. A stream of red began to thread out from his chest. In a move perfected by centuries, she wound the boy's soul around her hand and continued to pull.

"I bind you," Tara shouted.

The Valkyrie shook as if struck. She shook her head and pulled at the boy again.

Lucian dodged a sword aimed at his head and thrust up with his sword across the chest of one of the soldiers. He spun and swung his sword at another advancing soldier. The sword passed through the neck of a Spaniard and the apparition stumbled and slowed down. Lucian then turned to face a large Moor whose scimitar whistled through the air and Lucian leaped at the last second out the way as the blade swished where his abdomen had been.

Tara held out her hands palms facing the Valkyrie.

"I bind you!" she yelled again.

The Valkyrie shrieked as the words hit her. Her footing slipped a little and the thread in her hand shook and the boy swayed.

Lucian dropped into a roll to escape the double barrage of the Scotsman and the Maori. He leapt up with a growl and quickly stabbed the Scotsman and then turned to focus his attack on the Spaniard who had recovered from the earlier grapple. The swords engaged in a dance of thrusts and parries. The Spaniard's face in a rictus of anger and sorrow.

Tara inhaled deeply.

"I bind you!" she cried out.

The Valkyrie was thrown to the ground under the force behind the words. The boy fell to his knees as the thread stretched thinly between him and the gnarled fist of the crone. She wailed and shrieked and fought against the incantation.

The fight began to seep out of the warriors and Lucian was having no trouble in getting hits. He slowed down once he realised that the soldiers were doing little more than standing still, their weapons at the ready, but the fight had literally left them.

Lucian backed up slowly to stand near Tara. He kept one eye on the warriors and the other on the writhing Valkyrie.

"Release him and be forever bound," Tara ordered.

The wail that came from the woman on the ground was so terribly human sounding that Tara's resolve almost faltered in pity.

"Release him," Tara ordered again in kind voice.

The Valkyrie's lips trembled with frustration at the losing battle of wills. Her fingers slowly loosened their grip on the boy's soul. Finally, they fell open and the red thread slowly wove it's way back into the chest of the young man.

The Valkyrie cried out in anguish and hatred.

"You are forever bound," Tara said. "Go back to where you belong."

A golden light appeared on the horizon and charged towards the hill.

"No," the Valkyrie whimpered.

Lucian's eyes widened when the golden light turned into a large chariot led by four horses with a tall woman at the reins. Tara sucked in a breath at the sight.

The chariot slowed down and circled above the Guardians. The woman, adorned with flowing white robes and a stern expression that softened with a slight nod of recognition at Tara and Lucian. The Guardians nodded back. The woman then turned to the defeated Valkyrie lying prone on the ground.

"Sister in Arms," she addressed. "Your vengeance is over. No longer will you have the strength of a deity. You will remain in the land you were born in."

The golden Valkyrie raised her hand and with a deft pull unravelled the soul of her fallen sister. The thread was thin and black and wisped into the hand of the Valkyrie with little effort.

The woman on the ground groaned and rose up trying to grab onto her soul. It fell out of reach and she sobbed. Then with a last longing look at her descendant, she fell back to the ground and disappeared into dust that was carried away by a soft evening breeze.

The golden Valkyrie bowed her head and without a backwards glance, steered the chariot into the sky. Tara and Lucian watched it blend into the rising sun on the horizon.

Lucian turned to face the warriors still frozen in battle ready positions.

"Tara," he whispered softly. "Do something for them."

Tara smiled at the men and then with a wave of her hand, she said, "Your battles are over noble warriors. Go back to your lands and rest."

The faces of the warriors relaxed and they closed their eyes and lowered their weapons and drifted off into the wind.

The only sounds heard on the hill top were the distant crashes of the waves on the shore below and the strong heartbeat of the young man.


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue: _I have seen archipelagos of stars!_  
Rating: T  
Fandom:_ Underworld/BtVS_  
Pairing: Lucian and Tara  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it. The title and chapter titles are from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, _The Drunken Boat_.  
Summary: "What? Atonement?" Lucian said with a grimace. "I have so much to atone for Tara, I don't think I'd know where to begin."

A/N: And so this is the end of the story that has held the rest of my writing hostage until I finished it. Thank you to the reviewers who have left comments. I may possibly visit these two again someday. Thank you to everyone who has followed along.

* * *

Lucian stood in the shadows across the street from the small walk-in clinic in downtown London. He watched as the slender, pale dark-haired woman emerged from the inside and as her companion, a tall sandy-haired man took her hand and pulled her playfully down the street.

He watched the female try to hide the smile that threatened to surface. The young man just smirked and they disappeared around a corner.

"How are they?" Tara asked as she appeared next to him.

"Alive," Lucian said. "Safe. For now."

"For now?" Tara repeated.

"There are still a lot of angry and restless lycans and vampires out there," Lucian stated. He sighed and bowed his head. "I had no right to fight her Tara."

"Yes, you did," Tara said. "As a Guardian, you absolutely did."

"The Valkyrie was right," Lucian continued ignoring Tara's words. "And I am a hypocrite to have even dared to stop her from her vengeance."

"Her vengeance would have wiped out an entire island," she countered. "What she was doing was nothing less than genocide."

"That was my aim also, if you remember," Lucian said. "I wantedto wipe them all out. Every last vampire. We tried to avoid involving humans. But they always ended up in the cross-fire."

"Did it ever occur to you that that may have been why you were Chosen?" Tara said patiently. "To right your wrongs?"

"What? Atonement?" Lucian said with a grimace. "I have so much to atone for Tara, I don't think I'd know where to begin."

"Oh, I think saving an island of Viking descendants is a pretty good start," she said with a smirk. "Who knows what we'll get to do next?"

Lucian snorted and shook his head. Tara smiled even though she knew this would not be that last time they held this kind of conversation.

"So, that was magic?" Lucian said at last.

"Yep," she answered cheerfully. "What did you think?"

"Honestly, I thought there would be more colors," he said. Tara glared at him and he just grinned. The witch sighed and raised her hand and with a small twirl of her fingers, a bubbling stream of gold appeared from her fingertips and floated into the air.

Lucian chuckled.

"Touche," he said with a gallant nod of his head.

"Thank you," she replied with a nod of her own.

"What now?" Lucian asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't heard anything."

"Well, in that case," Lucian said. "I hear that there is a spectacular view of the Aurora Borealis occuring in the Arctic Circle. Care to have a gander at it?"

"I would like nothing better," Tara said with a smile.

Lucian smiled back and offered the crook of his arm. With a small laugh, Tara hooked her arm through his and they disappeared.

_But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking.  
Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter:  
Sharp love has swollen me up with heady langours.  
O let my keel split! O let me sink to the bottom! _


End file.
